That is SO Not Normal
by jackilantern
Summary: Craig Tucker is an average teenager.  Actually, scratch that.  He is the most average teenager.  He didn't expect much of himself.  But boy did he score...This is South Park, cursing is assured.  Cryle.
1. Chapter 1

**It's time to post some more shit-infused fuck-nuggets of fluff. Because this pairing needs more love.  
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That boy. He came in every afternoon and bought a lemon iced tea. He'd approach the counter, and I'd ask him if he'd found everything alright. He'd say yes, as was routine, and then he'd pay the one dollar and eight cents for the tea. Then he'd smile and walk out. That was how it went every single day.

Over time, we began to become familiar with each other. After the initial, 'Did you find everything alright?' (to which he always answered 'yes, I did' no matter what), we began to chat about little things as I rang him up.

"It looks like it's gonna rain today."

"Yeah, I hope I get home before it does."

After a while, we began to get a little more comfortable with each other, and we'd always greet each other as he walked in.

"Hey, you guys don't carry _Femme Fatale_ anymore."

"That album sucked, we didn't keep it around for it to get dusty."

"I happen to like that album, thank you very much."

"Do you? Along with lemon tea, huh?"

"Be quiet! I'm a customer!"

After a couple of months, I was given the privilege of learning his name. I told him mine, reluctant as I was. It's not that I didn't want him knowing my name, but I wasn't very proud of it. It sounded pretty dull to me. But when he said it, it seemed to roll off his tongue in waves. It made me sooo happy.

"I'm Kyle, by the way."

"Kyle? Yeah, that suits ya. I'm Craig."

"Well, it's not like I didn't know that, Craig. You _are_ wearing a name tag."

My stomach twisted as he vocalized the single-syllable word. _Craig._ Still, I hid my delight.

"I felt obliged to introduce myself."

"Did you really?"

"Yes, Kyle. After all, you're a customer."

After that, we got to know each other. We talked throughout his shopping. When he came in the double doors, he went straight to the refrigerator where his tea was kept. Then he glanced at some magazines and CDs before heading to the counter.

"Hey, did you hear about Britney's head?"

"Yeah, didn't they say it was filled with nothing but shit?"

"No, they actually said it was filled with naked photographs of your mother. No, douche bag, she like, shaved it or something."

"That was years ago, dude."

"I'm still a customer."

Over time, we eventually came to be something like friends. Often times he'd come in carrying a heavy bag over his shoulder, and he'd be carrying a book. Some times it was a novel, and some times it was a big textbook. So, he was a university student?

"Hey, how's Britney?"

"Hideous, just like your mother."

"My mother hates you."

"Yeah? Not as much as I hate Latin."

"You take Latin? Why the hell do you take Latin? It does nothing."

"It does too! It...increases my understanding of...Latin."

"Really, no shit."

"Yeah, no shit! Seriously!"

"I took Latin in high school."

"How'd you do?"

"I got an A minus, thank you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not stupid, bro."

"Well, Craig, to be honest, you don't look exactly smart."

"I look like a dumbass?"

"No, but you definitely don't look smart."

"I got invited to Yale."

"No shit?"

"Yeah, no shit. I told them I didn't need their stupid crayon embroidered underwear and thick as shit staff."

"You turned down Yale?"

"Yeah."

"I got invited to Harvard. I told them I'd get a doctorate in being better than them at Denver."

He went to Denver.

"No shit?"

"Yeah. My mom threw a bitch fest."

"Yeah, your mom's a bitch."

"I'm still a customer."

Sometimes, when he came in, he was in a dark mood. When he was angry, a cloud seemed to hang above his head, threatening to pour down upon anyone who dared cross him further. When he was in a mood, I'd usually complement him on something, or make a joke. He'd usually say nothing, but the fury in his eyes lessened considerably. His eyes, green eyes, were the most amazing things I'd ever seen. From the first time he walked in the store, they had always been the first thing I noticed. They screamed at you every single emotion he felt, so I read him like an open book. I was always entranced by his soulful emerald orbs. The different shades of grass and forest greens were spread out in front of me in a spectrum of up and down moods. He offered readily to me his every reaction, his every feeling for me to gauge. It made me feel special.

"Hey, something bothering you?"

"It's my neighbors, the stupid little shits, can't keep their retarded ghetto freak kids under control. I woke up this morning and on my front door was a note with the word 'faggot' on it. Motherfuckers."

"I have a feeling that isn't the only thing to get you worked up?"

"Some generic outcast in form today said my hat was stupid."

I glanced at his green ushanka. He'd always worn it. It seemed so...natural. It complemented his eyes so nicely. I could never think of it as stupid.

"Which generic outcast?"

"Some butt-fucker named Marsh or something."

"I hate Marsh. With a fiery passion."

"Ooh, big words. What'd he do?"

"He called your hat stupid. I fucking love that hat."

I fiddled with my usual blue chullo. I loved the thing, I'd had it since the third grade. It was old, yeah, but I took care of it. I really did like hats. Specifically Kyle's. His face turned a rosy shade of pink, and he looked shocked.

"You like my hat?"

"Yeah, it's the best hat I've ever seen."

He stared at me some more, before he grinned. I had lightened his mood, and I was sooo happy.

"I really like your hat, too. Suits you really well."

He tugged at one of my yellow pom poms (Well, they were more brownish than yellow now). I could feel my face heat up, but I smiled a little. I never could crack a grin like other people could. I could snicker and smirk, and I could smile lightly, but I couldn't full out grin. I hadn't yet discovered anything that could make me smile like that.

I had gotten so used to his visits, and he always came alone. The store was always empty when he came in, so we had the place to ourselves. One day, though, he brought a friend. And his friend. He looked poor as shit.

"Hey, this is Kenny."

"Hey, I'm Kenny."

"Fantastic, he needs a fucking medal. I'm Craig."

"Yeah, now you need a fuckin' medal. Yer wearin' a name tag, dipshit."

"That's what Kyle said when I told him my name."

"Nice ta meetcha, Craig."

"Yeah, you too, Kenny."

Kenny McCormick, as it turned out, actually was poor as shit. We became friends, to a degree, but he only came with Kyle when his parents (who he still lived with) were having sex on his couch or something. At first I was weary of him. I didn't know how close he and Kyle were, and if he would end up hurting him or not. I learned that the two were childhood friends, and while I now felt that I could trust the McCormick child, I couldn't help the envy that clouded around my head whenever I saw them together. I felt like I was second to him. He didn't tag along often, though.

I could never read Kenny's emotions as I could Kyle's. This was mostly due to the fact that his eyes were always partially obscured by either his orange parka hood (which he always kept up) or his shaggy blonde hair. His eyes, once I got a proper glimpse, were a shade of sky blue sapphire, and they seemed to gleam at you from under his matted locks. Another reason he was difficult to read was because he didn't seem to have any emotions to read other than cheeky blissfulness and indignation. He always had this sly look about him, though, as if he could see through absolutely everyone and anyone he wished, as if he was completely omniscient. I often felt a chill run down my spine at the thought of the boy knowing my every thought as if he were some super-being. But I knew it couldn't be true. Could it?

Every evening, long after Kyle's daily purchases, I'd go home, still pondering the afternoon's conversation. Fiery blood red curls protruded my thoughts as I went through my nightly routine. Clyde would make us dinner (or order it, to be more precise) and then we would pig out on Chinese food and watch terrible movies, which we criticized for the fun of it. At eleven thirty, we'd go to bed, and in the morning, I'd sleep in while Clyde left for school and then I'd start my shift at around two. I'd arrive behind the counter at my lovely hick town gas station and anticipate the moment those intense emerald eyes greeted me for the day.

**Wow, that was intense. Well, go on. Hit the button! Yes, hit it, say something, speak up!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hurr hurr I'm a day late. Fucking deal with it. I must say, I'm rather pleased with the amount of reviews and favourites I got. However, it makes me sad when someone favourites or adds to story alert but doesn't leave a review...*hinthint***

"You know that butt-fucker, Marsh?"

"The one I hate with a fiery passion? Yes."

"He apologized to me today for saying my hat was stupid. He said he was pissed off and accidentally took it out on me."

"He waited till now to apologize? What a dick."

"Yeah, he's still definitely a dick, but I can't help but be happy that he apologized at all."

Oh no. He doesn't _like_ the Marsh kid, does he? I don't like him. What if he hurts Kyle?

"I dunno. He can't have really meant it if he waited two solid weeks to apologize to you."

"He said he liked my hat."

Oh no. Oh no. Is that a blush? He can't like Marsh. He can't. It's not that I want him all to myself or anything, because we're not even that close. But he can't like Marsh. He's a butt-fucker. Kyle said it himself.

"_I_ said I _loved_ your hat."

"Yeah, you did, huh? Well then, I guess Marsh can go fuck himself."

Wait, what? Did I just unintentionally persuade him to like me more than Marsh? His blush got stronger. Was that because of me?

"Yes he can. Now, how much do you like my hat again?"

"I love your hat. It's the fucking god of hats."

He's grinning again, and tugging at one of my pom poms. Kyle has a really nice smile. Whenever he does it, the whole world seems like a much better place. It puts other people in a good mood. His lips (soft and pink) would move apart gently to reveal gleaming white teeth, but not too white, like some prissy bitch. They were perfect. His lips were perfect. His smile was the most perfectly imperfect thing I'd ever seen. And he loved my hat.

"Yeah, it is one of the best, isn't it? But if there's a Zeus of the hats around here, it's yours."

"Naw, mine is more like Poseidon. Yours, though, carries the lightning bolts."

"Well then, if I'm Zeus, then you must be my second in command at least. In this case, Hera."

"I'm not the jealous wife."

"Then what are you?"

"Cronus."

"Zeus overthrew Cronus."

"Cronus overthrew Jupiter."

"Touche. How about we both be Zeus?"

"Or at the very least we could be Apollo and Artemis. We're both the kings of hats, anyway."

"Yup."

Once, Kyle sopped into the store, downcast and dreary. It made me worried, because I'd never seen him really _sad_ before. He was always either angry or happy, never sad.

"Hey Kyle, what's up?"

"Nothing."

I started getting really worried. He didn't want to talk about it? I'd get him to talk.

"Come on, bro. Tell me. I make a good shoulder to cry on."

"Well..."

He looked really down. I'd get him to tell me, if it meant keeping him here all night.

"Go on, I'm listening."

I put my elbows down on the counter and put my chin in my hands for emphasis. I looked only at him.

"Well, I got almost no sleep last night because I was working on an assignment due today. I didn't have any breakfast because I was running late, then I got stopped by some fatass who shredded the paper I had worked on, telling me I couldn't make it anywhere because I was a stupid Jew. So I failed the assignment. I got mugged at around one so I couldn't buy any lunch and then..."

He sniffed. He looked as if he was about to cry. He was leaning against the other side of the counter, clutching his tea.

"And then...?"

"And then someone called my hat stupid!"

A tear made its way to the corner of his eye. He wiped it away with his sleeve, and looked down at the counter. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe that his day -his of all people- could turn out so rotten. I needed to make him feel better. I walked over to him and took his hat off of his head. I placed it on the counter, and placed my hands in his hair, stroking his head.

"Hey, don't cry. This is the Midwest, it's filled with douche bags that you just gotta ignore. The only opinions that should matter to you are the ones that don't come from fuck-tarded lard asses trying to make themselves feel better because they're too stupid and ugly to get anywhere in life."

I was holding his head close to my chest, petting the back of his head. He had his face half-buried in my shirt, and his arms partially around me. This was difficult to do because we were leaning over a counter. His hair was so soft. The flaming red curls tickled lightly beneath my fingers, and as I leaned close, I inhaled its sweet scent of fresh berries. It was almost overwhelming. I wanted to tug and twirl those curls around my finger forever. But, I pulled away and looked at him. Without thinking, I brushed a few stray tears away.

"Hey, how about this? I'll take you out somewhere nice to eat. No one ever comes in here, so my boss won't mind."

His face lit up like child's at Disney World. He looked up at me and sniffed.

"Really?"

"Yup. We'll go anywhere you like. My treat."

He grinned. I finally made him smile. It still made me sooo happy when he smiled. I led him out the doors, leaving a note for my boss. I opened the door for him on the passenger's side of the black corvette I drove, shutting it when he was in. He was thanking me profusely, and the excitement was evident on his face, and in his eyes. They sparkled with a childish light that I couldn't help but smile at. We ended up going to Red Lobster for seafood. Kyle seems to like seafood. Like, really fucking _loves_ seafood.

"You eat like a cat."

"Yes I do. I sleep like one, too. What does that make you then? A dog?"

"A guinea pig."

I thought of my childhood guinea pig, Stripes. God, I missed him.

"Why a guinea pig?"

"I had a pet guinea pig when I was little. His name was Stripes. I loved him sooo much."

"Did Stripes...pass?"

I nodded solemnly. Kyle placed his hand on mine, patting it.

"He's in a better place now, Craig."

There it was again. That simple, unimportant word that he made sound so beautiful. Not that I listened to his every word, waiting for it. I sighed.

"Yeah, I know. I miss him, though."

Kyle gave my hand a final squeeze and a small smile before returning to his food. His hand was so soft. Softer than his hair. The skin was so smooth and feminine, yet they were still masculine. I went back to my food as well.

After we ate, I drove Kyle home. He lived in an apartment complex in North Park. When we arrived, he asked me if I wanted to come in.

"Yeah, sure. I wanna see the Kyle layer."

He giggled. No, chuckled? That's more manly. So he chuckled. But it wasn't manly, so he giggled. How cute. No, he's not cute. He's manly. I followed him inside, and wasn't surprised at how immaculate his place was. Everything was where it should be. There was an umbrella (magenta polka-dots) by the door, and there was a pinkish-red couch in front of a fair-sized television. There was a refrigerator in the kitchen next to his stove. Everything looked clean and new. There was a piano in the far corner of his living room. I pointed to it.

"Do you play?"

He looked shocked.

"Oh, um, yeah, I do.

"Will you play something for me?"

"Oh, sure, I guess."

He walked over and sat at the bench. I took a seat on his couch and looked around me. The walls were a calming lavender colour, the plush, spotless carpet a sea green. The wood furniture (tables, chairs, etc.) were deep mahogany, and they were so well-polished you could clearly see your reflection in the table surfaces and fix your appearance. The entire living room and kitchen area was a burst of relaxing, refreshing, and effeminate colours. Soft pinks purples and blues and greens made one want to drink up the entire room and keep it with them for use. But I'm beside myself.

"I don't really know what to play."

He sounded nervous. The thing that would make this room perfect was if he was _relaxed_, and playing _relaxing_ music in this _relaxing_ setting.

"Play whatever you'd like. I always loved piano music."

He calmed down considerably, and began to play. His thin, pale fingers glided gracefully over the ivory keys. The song was slow, hopeful, and free. It was elaborate yet simple, and had a rippling effect in my ears. It was resemblant of a lone lily pad, floating softly in calm waters. The refined, unyielding frolic of the notes created an illusory image in the air surrounding Kyle. It was a spectacle, ablaze with the emotion poured into the composition. Though, I resented the light emitting from the vigor of the ginger's hands. I hoped wistfully that I could be as close to the music. Or rather, the player. There was a magnificent mounting in the tone of the song, until I felt almost a whiplash effect on my thoughts as the climax resounded. My resignation was evident as I sat stock-still, wanting to bask in the serene, refreshing tune. Finally, the song came to a close, and Kyle removed his hands from the keys, sighing. I sat anchored to my seat, satiated and enthralled.

"That was amazing."

He gasped, whirling around. And he was so calm, too.

"I forgot you were here...That felt good."

He smiled. Then, I smiled. But, it didn't stop. The smile continued to grow, and so did his. I felt so jovial. Then I realized, as I saw the grin on Kyle's face, that I must be doing that as well. I was shocked. My hands were quivering. My breath hitched. I was really _smiling._ It felt sooo good. And Kyle made me smile like this. I wanted to thank him. But before I could, he spoke again.

"I love your smile."

I should smile more. Really. If he liked my smile, I would smile any time he liked.

"Thanks."

It was all I could say. It came out as a whisper. He stood up and sat back down next to me. He was close. Our legs were just ghosting each other. I didn't want to scoot away. Everything was perfect. The song he had played still resonated in my ears. He was calm. I was calm. So calm, in fact, that I felt like I could...

"Kyle."

He turned to face me.

"Craig?"

He seemed to be breathing short, uneven breaths. Our faces were so close now. When did that happen? He knew what was going to happen. I did, too, so I didn't stop. I leaned in just a bit closer, eyes slipping closed, and connected our lips. He simply sat for a moment before returning the kiss. I was sooo happy. There's no other way to really describe it. His lips were so soft. Softer than his hair _or_ his hands. I never wanted it to end. I deepened the kiss just slightly, placing a tentative hand on his cheek. I felt him wrap his arms behind my neck, pulling me closer. He was practically on my lap now. He lifted my chullo off of my head, throwing it, presumably, to the ground. Fingers entwined themselves into my hair, tugging softly. We pulled away, gasping for breath. Kyle's face was bright scarlet, and I'm sure mine was too. Panting, he smiled. I smiled back. Then, he grinned. I felt myself grinning too.

When I got home, I ate Chinese food like normal, and went to bed like normal. I went to sleep, eager for the next day.

**A durr hurr I feel like this is Twilight, where everyone meets and makes out within the first few chapters. Jesus, Harry Potter will always be better. Don't...ever mention this argument in a review. Ok this is shit thank you ok bye. More shit-nuggets when I fucking feel like it~  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Hurr this was supposed to be updated on wednesday. Like last week. Hurr.**

He walked into the store in the morning, caught my eye, blushed heavily, and looked away. He had a soft smile on his face. We didn't talk as we normally did when he shopped, but I smiled nonetheless. He came up to the checkout counter with his lemon tea.

"Hey, Kyle."

"Hey, Craig."

He sounded kind of apprehensive. I suppose he was debating whether or not this...thing...between us was worth something. Whether I meant it or not. I decided I'd find out.

"Did you find everything alright?"

"Yes, I did."

Predictable, predictable. What'd I tell you?

"Good. How has your day been going?"

He was still blushing. He looked down at the counter as I rang him up.

"It's been kind of hard for me to focus..."

His voice was soft, as was his smile. I lowered my neck a bit to look at his face.

"Really? Can I help?"

I was having fun. I'm not a player, no, but it was fun. He looked up at me, a little confused looking, and I took my chance and dove in. Our lips connected and he emitted a little squeak. I held my place, hopeful, and soon he started kissing back. He seemed so nervous. I needed to do something to show him that I really liked him. Yeah, I really like Kyle. Is it bad that I'm admitting it to myself _after_ I've decided to admit it to Kyle?

We broke apart slowly, our eyes fluttering open. His face was a deep red, and his tea was covered in condensation, forgotten, on the counter. We were both panting slightly.

"Yeah, I don't think it really matters how distracted I am anymore..."

He trailed off. I really want to continue this.

"Nobody said a distraction had to be a bad thing."

After that, we continued to date. Well, I guess _technically_ we were dating. Nobody even knew. At least, I don't think Kyle told anyone. I took him out to dinner sometimes and lunch other times. We went to movies together and sometimes just went to the park. Clyde started to get suspicious when I came home late and questioned whether I had a girlfriend, but I gave my own back by asking if he thought I was really girlfriend material. Which I'm not. I'm boyfriend material. If anything was clear then, it was that Kyle definitely hadn't told Kenny we were together without telling me, because we ended up having to break it to him together.

"Ken, Craig and I have something important to tell you..."

"What? I didin' borrow no money from nobody this week, Ky."

Kyle gave a nervous laugh. I stood next to him, biting my upper lip. He opened his mouth again.

"Eheh, no, that's not it. It's kind of about me and Craig's relationship as friends."

"Or rather, how it's escalated."

He looked at me, fidgeting. I looked at him encouragingly, or at least in a way I felt was encouraging. It's kind of hard to tell when you don't have any real emotions.

"Whaddaya mean, escalated?"

Kenny shifted his gaze between us, a pointed look in his eye. Honestly, I couldn't care less about what

he thought about our relationship. I spoke next.

"He means that we're dating."

Damn. I didn't mean for it to come out so bluntly. I wonder if Kyle is mad at me...Actually, I can't tell. He has this look of mixed horror and shock on his face...Kenny just looks shocked. I looked between them, waiting.

"E-excuse me? You said you was dating?"

Luckily, Kyle took a deep breath and pulled himself together.

"Yeah...We are. We just thought maybe you needed to know."

I looked back at Kenny's face. I thought I saw...anger, was it? before his expression changed to his usual face. Stupid and stoned.

"Naw, that's ok. I don't mind none."

"Oh, good. We're glad you're alright with this, Ken."

Kyle was smiling, but I was suspicious of Poor Boy. He had this underlying glare in his eye pointed at me.

Once, Kyle and I stayed out late for a midnight movie premiere. When we stepped out and into my car, he yawned.

"I'm so tired..."

"You wanna crash at my place? It's right around the corner."

"What about Clyde?"

"He needs to know anyway."

He agreed and we headed over to our flat. Clyde had been a bit irritable as of late, mostly due to the fact that I had still neglected to tell him where I went after work. I didn't even tell him I was going to a movie. Sometimes he'd even flat out ignore me. I cracked open the front door and called his name.

"Clyde? I need to talk to you."

He appeared around the corner to the kitchen.

"Hey. Who's that?"

He pointed at the ginger behind me, who smiled and waved apprehensively. I stepped into the threshold and motioned Kyle to follow me, closing the door behind him.

"Well, that's what I-we-need to talk to you about."

Clyde raised his eyebrow in skepticism.

"Clyde, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is Clyde.

"Hey, Kyle."

Clyde reached out and offered a hand to Kyle, eyebrow still raised. The latter took the hand and shook it lightly.

"Hello."

"So, what does Kyle here have to do with anything?"

"We're dating."

Motherfucker. Mother of hell motherfucker. I hate myself. I hate myself, I despise myself. Clyde looked as if he was about to explode.

"Y-you gotta be shitting me!"

He seems to have taken it well. Kyle...is pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Um, yeah. We're dating. And I'm gay. And that's where I've been that I haven't been telling you about. With Kyle."

He looked slightly more calm then. Maybe he wouldn't have a problem with it. Then again, maybe he would.

"Oh...Well, uh, so is he spending the night here or something?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you, Clyde."

Kyle's smiling nervously again. He really knows how to handle a situation. Heheh. Clyde ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, that's fine, I guess. God _damn_, Craig, you couldn't tell your best friend? I'm hurt!"

Oh god. He's putting on his pouty face. He knows how terrible I feel when he wears it. Looking away, I notice Kyle yawning, and remember how tired he was. I lean over and whisper in his ear.

"Let's go to bed, away from _this_ one."

Kyle snickered. Of course, Clyde was still going on and on about how our relationship didn't matter to me, and how I should be more considerate blah, blah, blah...I led Kyle to the bedroom. Clyde and I alternate sleeping in the bedroom every other day. The other sleeps in the pull out couch in the living room.

Our bedroom was nothing short of the manliest man-cove there ever could be. There's all sorts of Red Racer posters and figurines in there. Clyde always had rolls upon rolls of coupons to Taco Bell hanging from the door frame, and he'd take one a day for lunch. Of course, there were also pictures of half-naked women lining the stark white walls. Clyde's, not mine, I swear.

Kyle craned his neck around, taking in all four corners of the box-like room. He walks slowly over to the queen sized bed and kicks off his shoes, still observing the details of the walls surrounding. Well, make yourself at home, then. I bounded up next to him on the bed on my knees.

"So, what do you think? Do you like Clyde alright? You think you'll be comfy in our bed?"

I couldn't help but remind myself of an excited child. God, humiliate yourself at the most spontaneous moments. Kyle giggled, nonetheless.

"Yeah, Clyde seems nice enough. I think I can still hear him. And your bed is _very_ comfortable."

He lay back on the mattress and rested his head on the pillow. His eyes were half-lidded and tired, looking up at me. I crawled over until I was gazing down at him, arms on either side of his body.

"You're sooo beautiful..."

What. The duck. Ducks in a fucking pond. Why the _hell_ would I say something like that? Duckies. Kyle blushed heavily, eyes widening. I don't know what I was doing, but I leaned down and kissed him. He kissed back fervently, wrapping his arms around my neck, bringing me closer. I always loved it when he did that. It reminded me vaguely of Stripes, and how he'd gently scratch at my hand. When I remember putting him on my head, and him trying to crawl around, it made me think of how Kyle tugs at my hair, and his finger on my scalp. The way he eats crackers is exactly like Stripes. He takes small nibbles, before deciding that something was alright to eat. Then he'd pig out. Suddenly, I found myself crying. I pulled away from the kiss and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. He looks up at me, eyes wide.

"Craig? What's the matter?"

He was gentle, not prodding. He brought my head down and tucked it into his chest, which I buried my face into. I continued to sob into the fabric of his shirt, clutching it at the shoulders and upper chest. I still had no idea why I was crying. I only knew I was extremely grateful to have Kyle there with me. I was grateful to have Kyle at all.

"Ssh, Craig. Was it...was is Stripes?"

He said the last part in a whisper. I nodded, starting to cease my crying. I looked back into his eyes for a moment, and he looked back intently. Then I kissed him again, roughly, lifting him up by the waist and holding him close. He moaned into my lips, making me moan in return. I slowly reached my hands up the back of his shirt. I wanted to lick up and down that skin of silk and cream. So I did. And it was amazing. And he moaned. And so I went lower.

And I was treated to what I'm sure was the worst night of Clyde's life.

**Sex is delicious. I'm planning on keeping this T-rated, however. So, we ordered Dominoes pizza for dinner tonight. My bro added into the special requests box, 'bro I want a unicorn on the inside of the box thanks bro.' They did. Oh fuck yes.**

**Cute-but-the-devil: I can't really reply if you leave an anonymous review. -.- But yes, I would love to~ Message me.  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Woah, look. A filler chapter.**

When I woke up in the morning, I had no idea what was going on. I had my arms wrapped around Kyle, we were both naked, and there was something sticky on both of our stomachs. Wait, what?

Kyle started to stir, and I panicked. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. He reached a hand up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but then he stopped.

"...Craig."

"Yeah?"

"Did we...Just — _did_ we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we did."

"Oh. Oh yeah."

As he lay there, he noticed the sticky stuff on our lower abdomens. Oh god. This is about to get 300% more awkward.

"Craig."

"Yeah?"

"Whose is this?"

Why would he ask a question like that? But...since I'm pretty sure I...never mind.

"I think it's yours."

"You...think it's mine?"

"...Yes."

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

I can't help but feel as if I'm in trouble somehow.

"Yes, I am."

"You are _so _dead in the near future."

_Shit._

~.~.~Line Break~.~.~

After an HP-draining brawl (of which I was the victor), we stepped out of the bedroom to find that Clyde had taken the day off and was still crashed on the couch. _Double shit._ I walked over to the form sprawled out on the makeshift bed, and shook him lightly.

"Clyde. Don't you have school today?"

He groaned and tried not to open his eyes. Damn, he looked tired. He stretched his arms out and mumbled a response.

"I didn't get any sleep last night, man. I was overcome with nightmares. The screaming and moaning...aah..."

He was looking at me pointedly now. Kyle hung back behind me, pinching the bridge of his nose. Heheh. I'm a source of frustration. I suppose it should be said that we both had pants on at this point and there was nothing, sticky or otherwise, on our stomachs.

"I'm, uh, sorry about last night, Clyde. We got, uh, caught up in the moment."

This day will go down in history as the most awkward day for Craig Tucker. Kyle put a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention.

"I have school today, too."

I blinked. _Triple shit._

"You could take a day off, too."

"I have a test today. In Latin."

"Fuck Latin. When are you ever going to need Latin?"

Kyle sighed. I decided that I should just take him over there, if I didn't want to get my ass kicked again- I mean, uh, if I didn't want to kick his ass again. Yup.

On the way to Denver, as we were busy _not_ fighting through the dreadful rush-hour traffic, because it was eleven, and we were waiting for a stoplight, Kyle slid onto my lap. I nearly died.

"You were really good last night, Craig."

Oh, that word. Especially when he said it so seductively. But, it didn't sound as sweet as when he was screaming it over and over last night in bed. Did I think that out loud?

"Uh..."

Then he kissed me. And I'm pretty sure the light turned green, but I didn't care because there was no one else around. I placed my hands at Kyle's waist and pulled him closer, kissing him roughly. He wrapped his fingers in my hair underneath my chullo, and the vehicle we were in was all but forgotten (except the brake. I definitely kept my foot on the brake.). Out of nowhere, he gasped, separated, and ripped the hat off my head, holding it out in front of him. Fucking...That was just getting to the really sexy part, too.

"I left my hat at your place."

_Quadruple shit._

"You think you could go without it for a day?"

He bit his lip. How cute. I mean manly. Not this again.

"I dunno. I kind of wear it to hide my curls."

His hands flew up to his crimson locks. I don't know why he would want to hide them. I love his hair. It's fluffy and soft and...afro-y.

"I didn't even realize you weren't wearing it. It's on my bed, huh?"

"Yeah..."

"Would you like to wear mine?"

_Sigh._ I'm such a nice person.

"Really? You would let me take your hat for a day?"

I nodded. The light turned red again.

"Yeah. If you feel like you need it."

I twirled one of his curls around on my finger absently. Then I leaned over and took one of the strands hanging over his forehead into my mouth. I tugged on it with my teeth, and it sprang back into Kyle's face, which, at this point, matched his hair.

"I-I feel like I need it..."

Aww. He's so cute. I mean manly. I took my chullo from his hands and pulled it over his head. It fit oddly over his mess of hair, but it was endearing.

"There. It looks great."

Kyle smiled, and kissed me again softly.

"Thanks, Craig."

He sat back down in his own seat. Just in time, too; the light turned green again.

The rest of the trip to Denver was silent, but not uncomfortable. Kyle kept fiddling with the pom-poms on my hat, adjusting it on his head. I pulled up to the grounds of Denver Community College. It looked. Retaaaarrded.

I quickly parked the car, jumped out, and opened the door for Kyle before he could move a muscle. Pretty slick, huh? I reach out and offered a hand, bowing.

"My Lady."

Yeah, I'm pretty slick. Kyle rolled his eyes, but took the hand, and I pulled him to his feet.

"Thank you, peasant. Now, carry my things inside and make me a cup of tea."

I bowed down low.

"Yes, my Lady."

"No, stop it."

"Your dress is quite lovely today, my Lady." Yup. Slick as shit. Ace slick spades shit.

As Kyle was beating me over the head with his bag, I couldn't help but laugh furiously. I tried to swat him away, but he followed me like a swarm of bees. We ran around the courtyard, feeling free. I hid behind a tree, and as Kyle tried to sneak up behind me, I caught him by the waist, dipped him, and kissed him playfully. I put him back on his feet and ran from the scene before he could set his senses right.

"Craig! Get back here!"

Again he began to chase me around in the early winter air. Our laughter resonated, bouncing off trees and walls. Our frolic ended as he caught me around the waist and we collapsed onto the grass, wrapped up in each other's arms. Our laughter turned into giggles and our giggles turned into comfortable silence. Kyle was tucked into my chest and he had his arms around my waist. It felt so natural at this point, I don't know how I've lived my entire life without my little ginger Jew.

Eventually, we both knew we had to get up. Kyle was here for a reason, after all. We shared a fleeting kiss and parted ways. Wait, fleeting kiss? Fuck it, Craig, who are you, Edgar Allen Shakespeare?

When I got back to my ride, the passenger's door was closed. That was strange, I could've sworn we had left it open in the heat of the moment that surrounded our game of tag. I shrugged and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car. I was about halfway out of the university's parking lot when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I slammed on the brakes and whirled around in my seat. It was Poor Boy.

"Kenny, what the fuck? Why are you in my car?"

"Because...because yer door was open."

"Dude!"

Ok, so I still had no idea why Kenny was in my car...

"Hey, you wanna take me ta lunch?"

Ok, so now I did.

I sighed in resignation and drove towards the nearest McDonald's. I bought the McCormmick whatever he wanted (a Big Mac, large fry, McFlurry, Mountain Dew) and just a root beer for myself. We choose a booth in the corner and he began eating.

"You know I have a job, right?"

"Shut yer trap. I'm fuckin' poor, 'member?"

"You're going to make _me_ poor."

"Yer boss don't know yer gone."

"Shut up, I'm under appreciated."

"I don't even know what the fuck that means, dude."

I sigh and shrug my shoulders. _Alright, just get through this. Then you can be behind your counter with some Playboy._ Ok, that wasn't exactly accurate. Zeus almighty knows I don't look at that shit. Kenny does, however.

The poor blonde quickly finished his meal and was down to sipping at his diet Mountain Dew slowly. I did the same in silence. He spoke suddenly, but his tone was...strange.

"So. You an' Ky are doin' alright, then?"

I nodded. That was just about the worst thing I could've done. He leaned into me and spoke in a quiet, treacherous voice. I stared at him precariously.

"Well, it ain't gonna do ya for every long. He wants me, I know he does. Look at yerself, man, then look back to me. Who's gonna win in the end?"

Wait, what the fuck was going on. Statement, not question.

"Excuse me?"

"You can go and dig yerself a fuckin' grave, dude. Cuz yer gonna need one."

With that, he took his drink and left the vicinity. I was...shell-shocked, I suppose. I tried to piece together what Poor Boy had said, but it was kind of sketchy in my mind. I decided I'd try later when I wasn't forty minutes late for work.

**That was the shittiest and shortest chapter I have ever written. For this story at least. Heheh.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I- /shot dead/**

**NO. I told you, I was away for me health. /shot dead several more times/**

I am no longer forty minutes late for work. I never really was. I am sooo lonely.

All that day I contemplated what Kenny had said, or rather, whether or not I should tell Kyle what Kenny had said. On the one hand (my left hand, because I'm left-handed and my left hand is THE one hand), I didn't want Kenny to ruin our relationship. On the other hand (my right hand, much more boring and not functional), _I_ didn't want to ruin _their_ relationship. When Kyle walked in, I almost felt frustrated that I would have to tell him something, regardless of my hands or their talents. He groaned.

"I think I just failed Latin for the rest of my life..."

I chuckled. He plopped himself down on top of my counter and I pecked him once or twice on his jawline.

"It does nothing."

"You're right! You've been right all along. It does nothing!"

I bite my lip before speaking again.

"Hey, Kyle?"

"Yeah Craig?"

"After you left today, Kenny—"

And then Kenny walked in. And then all hell broke loose. And then I realized that this was just not my day, was it? No, it really wasn't. Maybe you can treat yourself to something other than Chinese food and Bill Murray tonight. I'm sure Clyde wouldn't mind. On second thought, he's already pissed out of his shit at you. He'll probably flip over the couch if he even so much as _imagines_ what you are thinking right now. Why can't he like someone good, like Adam Sandler? Or Jim Carrey? Or anyone BESIDES BILL FUCKING MURRAY. Why can't you have something other than multiple personality disorder? Mother ducker.

"What's up, motherfuckers?"

"Oh, hi Ken. We were just talking about you."

Oh goddammit Kyle.

"Oh, ya were?"

I received a glare of the death variety. Craig to the rescue. My own rescue.

"Yeah, he appeared in my car. I had to pay for his lunch."

"Haha, are you serious, Kenny?"

And then he laughed, that laugh that regardless of who one was plucked at one's proverbial heartstrings. And I felt sympathy for Poor Boy, who looked as if he was about to throw up the lunch I paid for out of pure cute. And then I regained my senses, and realized that I really did want him to vomit up his lunch and pay me back, the asshole.

"I was fuckin hungry!"

Ah, the perfect facade. I hate my life.

I didn't actually tell Kyle anything about what happened with Kenny that day. Out of, um, fear for my own life. Also, I'd feel like the douchiest douchebag of all time if I upset Kyle. So instead, I pretended as if everything was normal: I took him out, I shot a hole through my brain out of boredom at work, I texted Kyle virtually every night, and I hardly slept, and for a while I'd never been happier. Like usual, visits from Kenny were rare (and very straightforward because Poor Boy was a complete dumbass) and we never watched anything but Bill Murray. One night Clyde did let me go to Wendy's though. I was even more ecstatic when Kyle got off for summer holiday. The day he was let off I decided to surprise him by picking him up from Denver. As an added bonus (whether the bonus could constitute as favourable or fallacious wasn't really clear at the time), I got to watch a particular scene unfold in the process.

"Fag, you dye your hair? Pretty red curls? Can I call you Annie? Instead, why don't you do something about that colossal nose of yours, stupid Jew!"

"Up yours, fatass!"

An enormous junior was following Kyle around with his little posse of (let me count on my fingers) two. He had a distinctive whiny quality to his voice, one you could pick out of a crowd. Ok, I'll admit, the thing that caught my attention were the colossal love handles hanging from this douche's hips and stomach. They...jiggled as he walked. They were almost like vast expanses of marmalade resting on nothing but butter and lard underneath. Hold on a second, I need to dry-heave into the passenger's seat.

I pulled up next to him and reached into my glove box, pulling out a plastic replica of a pistol-lighter. I rolled down the passenger window and popped a cigarette into my mouth.

"Hey."

Oh fuck yeah. Fat junior #1 whirled his head around to look at me quizzically.

"What?"

I whipped out the gun.

"I like red curls. Problem?"

"Oh shit!"

And then he ran like the little pussy he is, knocking over his cronies as he did and trying vainly to yank up his pants at the same time; the entire affair seemed to me like some ultra-fucked up chicken dance. Sweet justice.

"Get in, Betty."

Oh shit, I was in character now. Kyle rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the grin that plastered itself on his face.

"Shut the fuck up."

He sat down and closed the door; I gave him his hello kiss as he tugged on his seatbelt. Damn. I can't even think that with a straight face. 'Hello kiss.' Fuck. So I drove my ginger to his little poor college student apartment and we popped in a movie. And you will never believe my excitement.

Jim Carrey.

OH FUCK YES.

**I know, I know. it's short. I am working on chapter six at this moment. Or in twenty minutes. /SHOT THE FUCK DEAD/**


	6. Chapter 6

**I know, I know. It's been a while. I'm having a rough time and churning out these chapters has not been easy. Which is why I would like to thank a pretty special reviewer by the name of Koi Carp. Her review, which was actually received just three days ago, motivated me to finish this chapter which I'd been stuck on. Now, it's not that I don't think people are reading, because I know they are. I get about a million favourites and subscriptions with each chapter. But not a single review. And so to get this review-and a particularly well-rounded one, too-really pushed me and motivated me to finish. Thank you soooo much, Koi~ This was her review:**

**Holy moley I love this story! So witty and entertaining! I love your style of writing and your character portrayals, Craig, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, Clyde, even Stan! I love the small mentioning of Marsh and can't stop but wonder if there will be more of him. But right now, I'm more interested in Kenny. Poor boy. Why do I always have to go for the underdog?**

** Anyways, awesome story! I wish and hope and wait for an update sometime! Pleeeeaase! Update!**

**Haha, that's right, I posted it up for EVERYONE to see.**

The first few moments of conscience were disorienting. The first thing that crossed my mind was that the Dumb and Dumber selection screen was on the TV—I got a very strong urge to press play. The next thing I noticed were the soft plum coloured walls and turquoise carpeting—I was in in Kyle's apartment. The third and final peculiarity was that I had no pants on. Sweet.

Actually, I noticed one more thing. Where the fuck was Kyle?

I sat in confusion and delirium for a few minutes, then finally found my missing pants hanging over the edge of a chair and tugged them on. I lazily reached for Kyle's DVD remote. As I pressed play, I detected a faint whine, like muffled screaming, accompanied by a series of banging noises. I ignored it and watched the movie with attention. A few seconds later, the same thing occurred. This time I sat up and looked around, listening. It seemed to be coming from the front door of the apartment. I stood up and walked over to it, curious and cautious.

As I neared the door, the screaming and banging became louder and I began to recognize the voice yelling. I turned the doorknob slowly and pulled it open. Kyle was kneeling on the floor of the hallway, mumbling viciously to himself with his hand raised towards the door. There was a mountainous pile of sticky notes to his right. I looked at him quizzically. He looked absolutely livid.

"Uhh..."

His only response was a banshee scream that startled the shit out of me. He tugged me out of the doorway and into the hallways before he shut it and I realized exactly what the problem was.

And array of tiny sticky notes were plastered to Kyle's door. They said things like 'Jew' and 'fag' and my favourite—'Jew fag'. Kyle thrust his fist at the door and pummeled it; he managed to pull a few of the notes off before he screamed and repeated the action. Damn.

After Kyle's little episode, the poor kid was all Tuckered out (OH MY GOD), so I plopped him down on a kitchen chair and fixed him some bacon and eggs and orange juice. Then I gave him his favourite fork with cowies on it and his favourite cup with fishies on it. Then I laughed my ass off.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

He sounded so indignant that it reminded me vaguely of Kenny; he tended to whine. When I only laughed harder, Kyle turned sullenly back to his eggs and poked at them violently with his cow-fork.

When I had come down enough from my hysterics, I instead turned to watch Kyle. He was barely eating his breakfast; he was probably waiting for an apology. He was so cute—manly—that I couldn't help but smile at his childish mannerisms. When Kyle finally peeked his head up and glanced at me, he blushed and looked away.

"What?"

I continued to stare.

"Nothing."

"Why're you looking at me?"

"No reason."

He looked so annoyed, I had to cut him some slack. My smile broadened and I looked him up and down.

"You're so sexy."

Oh god, his face. It was so goddamn scarlet it was like some angry volcano decided to blow its shit up in his sinuses.

"What-what-WHAT?"

So after a rousing breakfast the duration of which I was roaring with laughter and getting beat over the head with a fork with a cow on it, I decided to take Kyle out to a car show in Denver. Neither of us are really into cars, but I had heard there were some cool attractions and thought that Kyle—easily entertained—might like them.

We got to the car show, took a couple pictures with a man in a cat costume (god save me), then looked at cars. Delightful. The interesting part came when we got to go on a test run of all different Jeeps—that's right, full on fucking all-terrain. We hopped on and held on for dear life.

It was a screaming metal death trap. I nearly pissed my pants it was so motherfucking insane. I was nothing compared to Kyle, however, who was just about dead. Hiding behind my arm and screaming his face off, he looked about ready to jump right off the vehicle.

Once we got off the Wrangler of Death and felt hard ground beneath our feet, it was like that feeling when you wake up and have to piss at three in the morning, but you don't wanna get up. Then eventually you have to pee so badly that you have to get up and that piss feels so incredibly good that you end up almost happy that you waited so long. Ahem. Anyway. We continued walking. When we paused to check out a yellow Bumblebee Camaro, I couldn't help but notice a completely conspicuous orange parka crouching behind a trash can. Fuck.

Unconsciously, my arm sucked itself back into my body from it's spot around Kyle's waist. He didn't notice my reclusive position to the side—he was too busy taking pictures of the cute kids inside the car. They were pretty cute, now that I think about it. A girl and her younger brother, about two and three years old. They were laughing and giggling from inside Bumblebee and now is not the time you asshole.

I carefully avoided giving any signs out that Kyle and I were together. I didn't know if Poor Boy knew that I had spotted his atrocious attempt at concealing his stupid ass, but I kept my distance and kept one eye on him.

Finally, when we decided to head home, I took one final glance around the vicinity, located the alpha-asshole hunched behind a hot dog vendor, then opened the door and started the car.

The ride home was relatively quiet, though after about ten minutes, we found ourselves at a safe distance from the car show, and Kyle spoke.

"Did you notice Kenny?"

I just about shat my pants.

"Uhh, yeah, I did."

"What do you think he was doing? I didn't want to say anything in case he was playing secret spys or something."

I seem to have overestimated the force which I was dealing with. I seem to have overestimated his abilities by a long shot. Kyle opened his mouth again.

"I think he was eating cotton candy too."

Oh yeah. Yeah, I really need to sort out my priorities. Nerd points +650 XP! O on my O.W.L.S!

After that outing, Kyle and I had some peace. We went about our regular routine, besides the fact that since Kyle was out of school he came to my store directly from home, and often a lot earlier. One day he came in and plopped himself down on the counter.

"I saw Marsh in the street today."

"Marsh?"

"Yeah, the butt-fucker."

"Oh, Marsh."

For some reason, I felt bubbling jealousy towards Marsh. Then I remembered he was a butt-fucker.

"Yeah, we chatted for a bit. Said he knew Ken."

This surprised me a bit.

"Really?"

"Yeah, said they knew each other through their parents. That they were pretty good friends."

So he knew Kenny. Huh. Imagine, two butt-fuckers in a row.

"Weird how how that happens, huh?"

"I know, it's like everyone knows each other."

He zoned out with a bored expression on his face. I seriously pondered the poor faggot being friends with the butt-fucker. Maybe I could finally meet this asshole who insulted my second favourite hat ever.

Speaking of this quite amazing hat, it was now sitting on the counter and the wearer of said hat was now pinned down also on the counter by yours truly. How did that happen, I wonder?

**I know, still pretty short. But I think I did ok compared to chapter five...Anyway, you guys, srsly. Liek, totally srs right nao. If you favourite and subscribe, it's hardly worth anything to me. It really means pretty much nothing. If you review, it lets me know you actually care about the story, and want to see more, and are offering ways for me to improve, and listing things that you like and I dunno. It means a lot more.**


	7. Chapter 7

Ah, Friday. Payday, for some. A time of relaxation, rest, and doing whatever the fuck you want after the last day of a hard week at work.

"Hey, Craig, Kenny wants us to go hiking with him and Stan!"

Unless your boyfriend makes you go hiking with him.

"Stan who?"

"Stan Marsh."

"The butt-fucker?"

"Yeah."

"Why is he going hiking with us?"

"He's friends with Kenny. Plus he's nice."

Kyle smiles. Jesus fucking Christ, this Marsh guy must be an asshole. Like, a total dick.

"Please, Craig?"

He gives me his face. His _face_. He knows I can't not give in to the _face_. I agree, and he grins.

"Thank you!"

And so there I am, hanging off the side of a cliff, watching some douche in a red poof-ball hat flirt it up with my boyfriend like there's no tomorrow. Kenny's way in front, and I'm bringing up the tail. When we get to our next rest point, I pull Marsh aside.

"You know Kyle and I are dating, right?"

I risk being very point blank with the moron because quite frankly, I'm pissed to high heaven. He lowers his voice, trying to be secretive I guess, and replies in hushed tones.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but Kyle's really good friends with Kenny, right? We only sorta know each other."

Oh shit no. I have to save this guy's ass before he digs too deep. Although...

"Yeah, they're best friends. Since pre-k."

The way Marsh's face lights up, you can tell he's elated. He throws a hopeful glance at Kenny before turning back to me.

"You think I have a chance?"

As I stand, feet rooted to the ground by the douche in front of me, I know in my heart I would have to let the poor guy down.

"Yeah, yeah, I think he's into you; you should go for it."

So much for letting him down. Don't judge me.

"Really? You think I should? Maybe I should take him out to lunch or something..."

I leave the prick to his thoughts, and go to check out Kyle's thoughts on the matter. He's preoccupied with chatting up Poor Boy, but I pull him aside (selfishly). As I do this however, Marsh swoops in on Dumbass, so no harm done.

"This Marsh guy has the hots for Kenny."

Kyle smirks.

"I know, he's all he talks about. You know he asked me what flavour ramen he buys...It really was a stupid question, since Ken can only afford to eat pop tarts..."

I can believe that.

"I think we should help them get together."

Kyle looks startled. I suppose it's an appropriate reaction, since I wouldn't have given a fuck if it wasn't a perfect chance to pry Poor Boy off my case. He raises one eyebrow.

"You think what?"

I decide against elaborating and act not-so-quickly.

"Not much. Come on, we should probably get going again if we want to make it back before sundown."

He shrugs and follows me back to Douche bag and Douche baggier, and we begin our climb again.

The entire way up the mountain hill mound of dirt, Stan is flirting up a storm with Kenny. He flutters around him and occasionally flits back to Kyle to ask him some weird sort of stalker question about Stupid Fuck. All these nicknames are entirely endearing, really. Haha, I just gigg–_chuckled._

At one point during our hike, Marsh stops by a dead bird lying on the ground. It's a sad sight to see, and Kyle even jokingly says a few words in the poor thing's honour. Marsh however, is having a panic attack.

I mean, Jesus fuck, how upset can you even get over a dead bird? It's one thing if it's a pet, but this one has all sorts of flies and shit on it. And Stan Marsh. Is having. A breakdown.

"We don't even know how it died! He could have been shot and no one would be any the wiser! Or poisoned! Oh this poor work of nature! Have mercy!"

Kenny spoke up.

"...Or maybe it just died, dude"

"But...it's a bird..."

The boy trails off and I swear to god he's fucking crying over there. Kyle and I just kind of hang back and examine an extremely interesting flat rock, while Kenny shifts uncomfortably on his feet before kneeling down next to Marsh.

"Um, here..."

He takes the bird from Stan's trembling hands. He places the rotting carcass (so beautiful) gently on the ground in front of a large, mossy oak tree, which shades the area. Then he speaks.

"Um, rest in peace bird, yer now in a better place. There, see?"

Marsh actually sniffles before nodding. He and Kenny stand up in unison.

That was so stupid.

We continue on our merry way (for most of us), and I still keep a watchful eye on Marsh. That dead bird seems to have taken its toll on his persona. He is not as annoying now with his stupid poptart interrogations and quite frankly I think he should remain this way forever. Much less of a fuck up. Kenny walks beside him as I do Kyle, and I can't help but think that maybe Marsh does have a chance after all.

Our group reaches the end of our hike and we decide to sit and rest before heading home. Kyle and I take our own table at our rest point, and Marsh and Fuckface sit at the other. Kyle and I sit in relative silence while I glance frequently over at the other pair. Finally Marsh catches my eye, nods his head conspicuously in Kenny's general direction, and gives me the _gayest_ wink known to man. Shut up Craig, you're gay. Shut up Craig, don't talk to yourself.

I finally open the passenger's side door to my car for Kyle and get in myself, ready to get the hell out of there. Apparently Poor Boy hitched a ride with Marsh, which I suppose is goddamn lucky for him, since he gets the sleazy guy all to himself.

My Jew and I get to my place later for him to join us in bad movie adventures, beginning with – you guessed it – Bill Murray. We are in the midst of not giving a flying fuck about the movie and drooling over ourselves in stupidity when Kyle receives a text from Marsh filled to the brim with exclamation marks and smiley faces galore. And oh Jesus fuck. Stan Marsh has a date With Poor Boy McCormick.

**So sorry, guys, I meant to make this longer, but the time gap between this chapter and the last was getting _unbearable _ and also this seemed like a good place to leave off...**

**And good lord, I am Homestucking so hard god help me. If this had been a HS fanfic I would have put flat rock and dead bird in all caps and I have a problem guys the yaoi is everywhere.  
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**Who even still reads this? One, two...Yeah, all two of you. Thanks.  
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**With love, happy belated birthday J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter and this is utterly irrelevent in every single way to South Park.  
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	8. CLYDE'S VERY OWN CHAPTER

**Hooray for Clyde. This is sort of a filler with out any real significance in the story. I wrote it to both fulfill my growing need to write about Clyde and to hold you guys over until the next chapter. So I decided to write this filler chapter for the sole purpose of SHOUJO-ING IT UP.**

Ok, so, get this. I'm in the kitchen making an omelet and watching some disgusting douche rot romantic comedy and the motherfucking police storm in and bust shit up.

Ok so that's not really what happened.

But someone did storm in and bust shit up the best he could, the poor soul. But why is Clyde home so early? Classes don't end for him for another three hours...

"CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG OGM I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING."

"WHAT IS IT GOOD LORD CAN'T YOU SEE I'M WATCHING JULIA ROBERTS WELL OUT WITH IT BOY WHAT DO YOU WANT."

"I JUST GOT ASKED OUT ON A DATE! OHEMGEE! :O"

"NO WAY LUMP FACE LEAVE ME ALONE YOU LONELY PILE OF SHIT."

Or something like that. I recall the conversation as being the approximate equivalent of an already minuscule IQ rapidly dropping into the negatives, so I figure that little rendition was spot on.

Anyway, apparently Clyde has a date with some whore or another? Moron thinks he's a pimp, but this is the first date he's had since senior year.

He's like a cute little fairy princess school girl in love for like half a week and it's actually pretty damn disgusting. For those few days, his image in my mind's eye was of him prancing through a field of wild flowers with his new "totally hot, dude" supermodel love interest.

So when I see some sparkly black dude on our doorstep that I haven't seen since elementary school, I am beyond shocked.

"Token, what the fuck!"

I give him a totally manly bro-hug and invite the rich douche inside while Clyde finishes wiping his ass.

"Hey, dude, how's it going"

"Life is shit dude, where have you been? I thought you went off to like Princeton or something."

He scoffs. Prick ass.

"Just because I'm rich and black doesn't mean I have to be any less lazy and incompetent than you do."

"It does when you just used the word 'incompetent,'"

Clyde the Taco Vacuum finally graces us with his unprecedented stupidity before promptly tripping over air and landing face-first onto cold tile.

I bite back my laughter out of pity for him before I notice that the kid's nose is gushing blood like a woman's vagina and that was a horrible analogy. I gotta clean him up before he starts up the water works...too late.

He sits upright and just sort of holds his nose and cries and Token and I kinda stare at him for a few seconds. Honestly, after so many years, I still can't believe my room mate is so extremely stupid. Stupid and childish and shut up Craig you still buy those little Dixie cups with fish on them. Shut up rational half of my brain, that's a perfectly manly and mature thing to do.

I glance over at Token, who's still staring open-mouthed at Clyde, and see he has no idea what to do, but he wants to help. Aww, that's so sweet. Someone actually wants to date _Clyde_ instead of his dad's shoes.

Finally, to shed light on the situation, I raise myself from my seat and grab a miraculously clean wash cloth from the hallway closet. I wet it under cold water and toss it at Token, who catches it with a raised eyebrow. I jerk my head in the direction of the damp moron on the kitchen floor before hurrying out of the room and taking refuge four inches away from the screen of someone's ipod. Whose ipod? Not mine. I don't have an ipod. Then whose is it? Not mine.

I flick it on and quickly deduce that it must be Kyle's, since he's the only twat I know who listens to fuckton upon fuckload of Britney Spears. I sit back and enjoy the fruits of my (non-existent) labour as my two bros hit it off in my kitchen and this is going to be so fucking weird.

**Oh god the BL it was so fun to write this thing. I don't really like getting all emotional in my author's notes, but I feel the need just to tell all you guys that are reading how much you actually mean to me. Especially since I am still a n00b and write just for kicks. alrightalright get out of here and don't forget to type something in that retarded little box shoved down there. Your reviews make me feel all tingly inside and I think I will be alone for the rest of my life.**


	9. Important Notice

This story has been dropped. Sorry for any inconvenience. I'm leaving this story up, but this account is no longer active. PM me if you would like, or follow me on tumblr, which in on my profile.


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